Wanda Luttrell

Later, Jan Marsh wondered if they would have bought the old Garland mansion if they hadn't been so desperate. But how could they have known? It didn't seem eerie or threatening the day they decided to buy it. It seemed simply a big, old, decaying leftover from some other age, a wonderful fixer-upper in their price range that seemed Heaven-sent. But as she began to hear strange sounds and smell the musky scent of lavender that had no reason to be there, she wondered if the house was connected to some lower region.

Then she saw her. She was standing a couple of steps up on the attic stairs, one slim, white hand on the rail. Her dark hair was piled on her head in a style of the early 1900's. She wore a long, gray skirt with a high waistband and a white, long-sleeved blouse that came up around her white throat in a high lace collar. Around the collar was a narrow black velvet ribbon from which a dainty gold locket dangled.

She was looking directly at Jan, a faint half smile slightly curving her pale lips. Her gray eyes pierced through her,seemingly seeking her soul. Frozen to the spot, Jan watched in fascinated horror as the woman moved toward her, hatred blazing in her eyes and contorting her once-lovely features.